


Wanderer

by invoide



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Bird Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Good Friend Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wingfic, platonic, preening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-28 11:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invoide/pseuds/invoide
Summary: Tommy knew that the view of the mansion’s roof was breathtaking. He was able to see all of Snowchester, and even beyond that. The moon was still out, only faintly hidden by the thin clouds in the inky black sky. The snow that was falling was faint, only dusting the world it fell onto. It practically melted as it hit the roof, only building up in the corners of some of the stairs.Tommy knew that this should’ve been a beautiful, serene scene. But he couldn’t appreciate it. All that ran through his mind were worries and anxieties. As much as he tried to focus on the snow, or the sea below him, or the forest, or the diverse architecture, he couldn’t.What he didn’t know is why he came up onto the roof.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 182





	1. Roof Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend requested a 'cute medieval fluff wingfic'.
> 
> i wrote this instead
> 
> tw//  
> panic attacks, implied trauma, implied abuse, minor use of swears

Tommy knew that the view of the mansion’s roof was breathtaking. He was able to see all of Snowchester, and even beyond that. The moon was still out, only faintly hidden by the thin clouds in the inky black sky. The snow that was falling was faint, only dusting the world it fell onto. It practically melted as it hit the roof, only building up in the corners of some of the stairs. 

Tommy knew that this should’ve been a beautiful, serene scene. But he couldn’t appreciate it. All that ran through his mind were worries and anxieties. As much as he tried to focus on the snow, or the sea below him, or the forest, or the diverse architecture, he couldn’t.

What he didn’t know is why he came up onto the roof. 

He couldn’t sleep that night, so he had begun wandering around the grounds of Snowchester, with the idea that he’d stray farther. But when he drew close to the glass tunnel that leads to the Greater SMP, his body froze up. It was a feeling that he’d been dealing with since Pogtopia, a feeling that had been growing stronger and stronger through the months. A feeling that caused him to freeze up, to shake, to start to panic, to scream. A feeling that he didn’t like dealing with- so he quickly ran away from the tunnel.

He found himself back in the mansion, avoiding the other residents of it. Tubbo had given him a temporary room, where he sometimes stayed when he wasn’t walking around at night.

But tonight, like most nights, he was restless.

As he went through one of the hallways, which was barely lit up enough for him to see, he heard the soft noises of a piglin through the door. From the noises came flashes; flashes of Technoblade, surrounded by withers, trademark pink hair and royal outfit neat and pristine despite the destruction around them. Him telling Tommy to die like a hero.

But Tommy didn’t want to die. Not then, and certainly not now.

When he came back to his senses, he realized that the noises must have been from Micheal, Tubbo and Ranboo’s son. Nonetheless, he refused to stay in that hallway any longer. He could feel more horrible memories creeping back. He had sprinted through the hall, caring less and less about how heavy and loud his footsteps were until he reached the end of it.

He found a temporary staircase which was probably built by Foolish- the mansion’s construction was still not done, but quickly finishing up. Foolish probably needed quick access to the higher floors and built something that would work but could be taken down as fast as it was built. He started to climb up the stairs, carefully treading as he didn’t know how stable it was.

The staircase inevitably led to the roof, where a small opening gave him his entrance. The majority of him fit through it easily, but he struggled to fit his wings through.

His wings were still growing. Most avian’s wings stopped growing when they were 18, which meant he had little more than a year of growth left. The majority of hybrid traits were similar. Some traits, like horns, grew for years beyond that, even for the entirety of their lives. Tommy was glad he didn’t have to go through growing pains for that much longer.

That didn’t mean he liked his wings.

Going through the hole led him here. Sitting on the roof for who knows how long, fighting the side of the brain that wanted to think with tiny distractions.

The biggest distraction of which, of course, was his wings.

He hadn’t taken care of them in a while. Admittedly, it’s been a really long time. An embarrassingly long time. He remembered Wilbur always telling him to take care of his wings, lecturing him whenever he went anywhere with unkempt, unpreened wings. Wilbur had always taken a strong pride in his wings. His feathers were always shiny, always looked perfect, no matter how much he had been flying that day.

That is, before Pogtopia. Where… where he….

Tommy felt tears prick at his eyes, threatening to flood over. He let out a shaky breath as he shut his eyes close. He had to keep his mind off the past. He needed to focus on the future or some shit like that. 

His wings were incredibly uncomfortable. He hadn’t preened them in months, had been avoiding using them for much longer. He knew it was unhealthy, but whenever he even paid attention to them, everything hit him at once. And he couldn’t be vulnerable again. But right now, he would do anything to alleviate the pain.

He leaned back, stretching his wings out. They were almost constantly tucked in close to his back and under his jacket, and the only chance he ever got to have them out was when he was alone. 

“Tommy?” A soft voice called out from the other side of the roof. Tommy’s eyes widened. He turned around quickly, hand going to a trident that wasn’t there. His posture slumped again when he saw who the voice belonged to, however. It was Tubbo. His head was just barely poking out of the hole that led to the roof. His fluffy brown hair was long, almost completely covering his eyes. Two ram horns poked out of his hair, ending in a slight curl that had been developing recently. 

“Hey, Big T.” Tommy cursed how shaky his voice sounded. Tubbo climbed through the hole and started to walk over to him. He was still wearing his nightwear- though Tommy wasn’t surprised. It was still an hour or so until sunrise, after all. Tubbo sat down next to him, leaning against him. Tommy felt himself, almost instinctively, put one of his wings around Tubbo.

“Why are you up here?” Tubbo asked. Tommy took in a breath, his wings twitched. This was the first time he spoke with Tubbo without Ranboo being there since he… he just couldn’t fuck this up. 

“I couldn’t sleep. And I found myself up here.” Tommy replied in as much of a nonchalant manner as he could. It seemed to work, as Tubblo nodded. 

“It is quite pretty, isn’t it. We picked out a good spot to live.”

Tommy realized bitterly that he was no longer part of Tubbo’s ‘We’. This wasn’t his home. He didn’t have a home anymore. It felt like he was merely intruding on someone else’s life. 

Tubbo looked over to him, then to his wings. One of his goat-like ears twitched as he studied them carefully. Tommy could feel his wings tucking in, closer to his back. He didn’t like how carefully Tubbo was looking at them; like they were specimens he was observing.

“You’re wings look a bit worse for wear,” He said after a moment of silence. Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I know dickhead.”

One of Tubbo’s hands reached for a wing, but Tommy flinched away. The hand froze before it went any farther.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked. Do you mind if I preen your wings?” He asked. Tommy had a strong moment of hesitance. He had been neglecting his hindbrain recently, the more bird-oriented side of his brain that fueled the majority of his instincts- the ones to be with his flock, and make a nest of blankets, to get his wings preened and to preen others. And right now, his hindbrain screamed ‘flock’. His human brain was just happy that he was finally with Tubbo. Finally, he nodded.

“They have felt really bad lately,” he murmured in response. His feathers were dull, bent and broken, out of lock with the nearby barbs, covered in ash, dirt and soot. They were probably not in any quality to fly, not like he would want to even if they were. 

He felt a hand softly grazing over the top of his wings. He breathed out harshly, but soon grew relaxed over the comforting feel of the hand petting his coverts. He could feel the small feathers puff up, but he didn’t care enough to resist them from doing so.

“Remember when we were younger?” Tubbo started, “and Phil taught us how to take care of your wings-”

“That wasn’t Phil,” Tommy almost automatically interrupted. His voice felt flat, and his eyes went blurry with unseen tears. “It was Wilbur who taught us. Phil was already out by that point, out with Technoblade doing whatever they were doing.” He practically spat out the name ‘Technoblade’. His wings went rigid under Tubbo’s touch, and he felt his mind sink.

Tubbo audibly sighed, and Tommy had to bite back the urge to apologize. Instead, he stayed quiet, relaxed his wings, and let him continue.

“... Wilbur taught the both of us how to take care of your wings, especially since you started to learn to fly. And after every crash, the three of us would nestle by the fire, and preen your wings.” Tubbo’s voice had a certain lilt of nostalgia, and Tommy could hear him light up as he reminisced. It sickened him.

He let out a harsh, sharp laugh that stopped Tubbo’s hand from moving. “We obviously have a very different interpretation of our childhood.”

Tubbo tugged on a feather, obviously in a teasing way, but it caused a spike of pain to flood from his wing through his entire body. Tommy screamed, his hands immediately going up to his head in instinct, trying to block whatever was going to him. His breathing grew shaky and his vision went black around the edges. He started to feel lightheaded as he curled in on himself. He heard the vibrations of noise, perhaps someone speaking, but he didn’t care. He just needed to hide, to get away. He would not die again. His heart was beating out of control. Everything hurt, everything hurt so much.

He felt his wings sharply cover him, acting as a shield. As he did, he felt another sharp jab, and he let a sob escape from his throat. 

“-mmy! Please, please just-”

He heard a voice. It had to be Dream, taunting him as he hit. Again. Again. And again. It felt like he was going to die. He was going to go back. He was going to have to be with Wilbur for months, maybe years, he’d be stuck with the person who ruined his life, forgotten by all of his friends as they-

“Breathe, Tommy. I need you to breathe for me.” A voice said. It sounded so distant, eerily calm during his state of panic, so he latched onto it. He felt a hand on his chest, and another on his back. He breathed in slowly, then out again. In slowly, then out again. He followed the movements of whoever was in front of him. 

Finally, his vision cleared and it seemed like he was finally calming down. He leaned into the touch of the person next to him, letting go of his head but keeping his wings around him. The person let go of him, and he tried to reach out again, but he was too shaky. He needed to stop being shaky. Why was he so shaky?

He rubbed his head, bracing for the incoming headaches, then looked around him. He was on a roof- what roof? Snowchester. He wasn’t in prison anymore, he was in Snowchester. On Tubbo’s mansion. He was safe now, he was okay. 

His wings relaxed, lazily falling behind him. His breathing went back to normal, albeit with the occasional hitch. He stretched out his legs, sitting with as best posture as he could. 

Nothing happened for a few moments. 

The two boys on the roof were silent, nothing audible besides soft breathing, and the world below them just starting to wake up. Tommy rolled his eyes. He hated waiting in silence for nothing. Call it impatience, but Tommy recognized it as his need to keep moving. 

“Can you continue with my wings?” he asked. Then, his eyes focused on Tubbo. This was the first time he took a true look at Tubbo since he came onto the roof. And he was hit with a pang of sadness. Tubbo looked startled, bordering on scared.

“Tubbo?” He asked. His voice was small.

“Tommy?” Are you alright?” He asked cautiously. Tommy frowned at the tone- he hated when people talked down to him. It was the tone Phil used after coming back for the first time in years, the tone he used on him right after he murdered Wilbur. It was the tone Sam used on him whenever he would have nightmares and came to him in the middle of the night, lost. It was the tone of voice Techno would use on him whenever he was in the mood to pretend to care, right after yelling at him for tapering with his stuff. It was the tone Wilbur would use on him when they were kids, when they were alone, because their dad and his student ran off, doing whatever adventure they cared for.

It was a tone that seeped with dishonest care.

It was a tone used by everyone who lied to him.

It was a tone now being used by his best friend.

“What?” Tommy shot back. “Of course I am. Can you just continue with my wings?” Tommy turned his back to Tubbo, spreading out his wings expectantly. He noticed some of his feathers twitch.

“What? No way. I think you just had a panic attack or something like that. We need to get you some water.”

Tommy scoffed. “I don’t have ‘panic attacks’. I’m a big man.” Panic attacks were something that he’d hear about growing up, but never fully understood.

Tubbo went silent, before speaking in a meek voice. “I’m a big man, and I have panic attacks sometimes.”

Tommy froze.

“What?”

Tubbo sat behind him, running his fingers through his feathers again. This time, it felt like he would actually start preening them.

“Sometimes I have panic attacks,” Tubbo said again. His voice sounded more confident this time, like he knew where he wanted to take this conversation.

Tommy knew that Tubbo would have panic attacks. They were the worst in Pogtopia. Neither of them knew how to deal with them, but they had to figure it out since one of the adults that stayed in the ravine was blood-hungry and the other’s mind was slowly unravelling in front of their very eyes.

“Yeah, I know. But that’s because you got… you know… by the fireworks. But I don’t have a reason to have panic attacks. I’m pretty sure you need a reason to have them.”

Tubbo laughed softly “I’m pretty sure you have a few reasons. And I know I’m the reason for some of them.”

“Tubbo, you didn’t do anything wrong-”

“Yes, I did. I can admit that I was a shit friend. But I want to be better now.”

“Thank you.” Tommy didn’t really know why he was thanking him. Maybe for his efforts to change. Maybe for him being his friends. Maybe for him just being there. But he felt like it needed to be said. He leaned back where he was sat. Tubbo’s hands ghosted over his feathers, causing him to shudder.

“Can I touch them?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy swallowed, but nodded.

For the first few moments, Tubbo was merely petting his feathers, stroking over the entirety of his wings. But finally, he started to actually preen them. Tubbo started at the top of his right-wing. His hands moved quickly through his marginal covert, picking out the dirt and dust. Then, it was time to actually fix his feathers. There was a tugging sensation of the individual feathers being put back into place, and he was immediately flooded with an intense feeling of relief. These were his smallest feathers, and the feathers that had bothered him the least and just at this, Tommy was filled with an extreme feeling of relief, a chirp escaping his throat. He heard a soft laugh, and a hand petting through his covert after finishing that section.

Tubbo used both his hands as he moved on to his other coverts, first picking out the dirt and grime, then fixing the feathers. The barbs interlocked, the feathers going perfectly in place. He felt a partially painful feather being tugged out, and he let out a loud chirp. He would probably usually be embarrassed, but he didn’t really mind right now. This section took a long amount of time, probably longer than it should usually take.

He felt his hand brush over his scapulars, fixing the fluffy feathers, then moved on. 

He forgot how nice preening really felt. It left his wings in a tingling sensation, a sensation he relished in. His head grew fuzzy as he basked in the warm feeling of Tubbo’s hands on his wings. He practically melted into the touch at this point. It had been so long since his wings had felt anything other than uncomfortable and painful.

For the first time in a while, he felt safe. 

Tubbo made quick work of his secondaries, falling into a comforting rhythm that reminded Tommy of when things were easier. When there weren’t any wars, any bad guys, any countries, and governments, anything they had to worry about. Right now, everything was warm and happy and perfectly okay. He had to resist every chirp and trill his hindbrain wanted him to make, but a few slip, and he felt the small laugh of Tubbo every time it happened.

He cooed as his hands finally touched his primaries. He felt overwhelmed, but in a nice way. Everything just felt nice. Everything felt like it was finally coming together in the best way possible. Tubbo had to put his other hand on Tommy’s back to make sure he wouldn’t completely collapse on him. He felt like he was going to fall asleep, and they weren’t even done with the first wing. He heard him say something, but he couldn’t comprehend what he said. He rumbled in response, a noise that sounded like him purring. 

He knew that he would probably have to talk about what happened in the prison soon.

He knew he would have to confront the shadows that haunted him eventually.

But all he wanted to do now was stay here with Tubbo, warmed up by the gentle light of the sunset, shaded by the pale pink highlighted clouds.

He’ll worry about Dream, and Wilbur, and Schlatt, and the Egg, and Sam, and Techno, and Ranboo, and the Vault, and however the hell you dealt with a panic attack tomorrow.

But right now, he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really out of my element, and i'm not exactly proud of it, but it was fun to write nonetheless.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!


	2. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw//
> 
> nightmares, implied panic attacks, implied abuse, implied trauma, use of swears

“Tommy, are we the bad guys?”

Tommy was surrounded by trees, rain beating down on him, plastering his soaked hair to his forehead. He could barely see what was in front of him- the tree canopy blocked out the minimal light from the stars. But he could see who was in front of him.

A tall, looming figure, dressed in black and white, curly hair seemingly untouched by the horrible weather. His wings were only slightly spread out, making his silhouette seem even more menacing. A flash of lightning crackled, illuminating his face, which was deadly pale, eyes cold and faraway.

Half of Tommy’s brain lit up, thrilled to see his face.

The other half screamed at him to run.

“W-what?”

Wilbur smiled, walking to him. His steps were slow and deliberate, a sense of incredible grace behind the power.

“I said-”

The pounding of rain grew, drowning out whatever Wilbur was about to say. There was another flash of lightning, illuminating everything to the point that he had to close his eyes as it had grown so bright it was painful.

When he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by craters. He was wearing hastily put-on armour, holding a damaged sword. Blood trickled out of his nose, and everything felt incredibly sore. He looked around wildly until his eyes landed on _him_. Pink hair free from its usual braid, skull mask covered in dust and grime, netherite armour shining in the sunlight. In his hand grasped a deathly grey skull far larger than a humans' would be, and he was surrounded by monstrous bodies sculpted from a foreign sand-like material, with skulls nestled at the tops of each.

“If you want to be a hero, Tommy… if you want to be a hero- then die like one!”

Tommy screamed as the withers activated. He was almost immediately hit by one of their explosives, and he was thrown into the air. He hit the battle-torn ground with a thud, his wings spread out to block any of the damage. His eyes dimmed as the air was knocked out of him, the bones in his wings giving a sickening crunch on impact.

He was swiftly shaken back into consciousness by strong hands. He looked up to see Phil staring at him. His shoulder-length hair was messy, his hat was missing, and he looked distant. Tommy shook him off, stumbling to his feet. The damage around them was irreparable. L’Manburg was gone. Blown up by the two people that were supposed to save it. He let out a sob as he covered his mouth with his hand. His wings tucked close to his back, and he winced at how much they hurt. Finally, he turned to Phil.

It was only then when he realized that Phil was covered in blood.

“Phil? Where’s Wilbur?” Tommy asked, his voice sore and cracking. He already knew the answer to the question, but he refused to accept it.

Phil only offered a sad smile as his hand cupped his cheek. 

“Tom. It’s been so long.”

Tommy glared at him, ripping his hand off of him. He wiped off the blood that transferred from the hand to his cheek in disgust. He took a step back, flaring out his wings.

“Where is Wilbur?” He demanded, “What did you do to him?”

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice didn’t sound like his own, even though it was coming from his mouth. The voice had an entirely different accent, a different lilt, and it sounded incredibly deranged.

It was a voice Tommy almost immediately recognized. His blood went cold. He gripped the hilt of his sword, eyes wide.

“Tommy.” The voice said once again. There was a sickening gentleness about it, like the voice was trying to be comforting. It was anything but.

“Dream.”

Phil, in the blink of an eye, disappeared. Tommy took a step back, his foot landing on something smooth and hard, a much different texture to the grass he was just standing on. He looked behind him, realizing with a start that the world around him was transforming into obsidian. After a few seconds, the area was completely transformed into a black box. There was a sink with a faucet dripping water, a desk, a pile of books and a hook where something like a clock would hang.

Tommy gave a shaky gasp.

He whipped around to see a nonchalant Dream leaning against one of the holding cell’s walls. He was wearing a dark grey prison jumper with the label ‘Prisoner 0001’ stitched over his heart. The iconic mask he wore was gone, long taken by Sam before he was locked in here. His dirty blond hair grazed his shoulders, messy as if he had long cared for paying attention to his appearance. On his wrist was a bracelet that projected the number of lives he had left. One. But Tommy knew that lives didn’t matter anymore. Not with the power Dream had.

Dream looked over to him, flashing a bright smile that didn’t meet his eyes. 

“How are you?” he asked, walking over to him. It sounded like he had two voices both speaking at once. With every step closer, the room shrunk around them. Tommy pressed his back to the wall, shrinking away from his touch.

“Get away from me.”

Dream stopped walking closer, but he smirked. He gave a dramatic shrug, turning on the heel of his foot.

“You’re back,” he noted.

“No, I’m not,” Tommy snapped, “I’m not back. I’m out of this stupid fucking prison, and I’m never coming back.” He tried to keep his voice as flat as he could, but he could hear that it was still full of audible emotion. His wings twitched behind him.

Dream looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Then why are you here?”

Tommy breathed out. He felt anger bubble out of him. His face went red, and his fists clenched up. He pushed past Dream, trying to shove him as hard as he could. He got as close as he could to the lava wall that blocked him off and screamed as loud as he could muster.

“Sam! Sam! Help!” He fell onto his knees, lightheaded. He felt the need to sob, but the tears never came. He couldn’t be back in the Vault, he refused to be. After minutes of him just sitting there, staring at the floor as the lava heated him up to an uncomfortable degree, he turned around to yell at Dream. He moved, expecting to see Dream, but instead, he saw Wilbur.

He was still in his black and white outfit, now calmly flipping through a stack of cards. Tommy jumped back, the tips of his feathers dipping into the lava. He hissed, falling away from it.

“‘Cause we just kinda made ourselves the leaders,” Wilbur continued, as if nothing had happened to break up their conversation, “And now we had a vote, and he won. And now we are trying to overthrow him. It feels like we’re the bad guys, Tommy. This doesn’t feel correct.” He pocketed the cards, looking straight into Tommy’s eyes.

“Tommy… Tommy, am I the bad guy? Am I the villain in this story?”

Tommy opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak.

“Am I the villain in your history?” His voice echoed off the walls.

Everything around him turned to black.

Tommy woke up with a start in the bed of his temporary room, soaked with sweat, gasping for air. He pushed himself to a sitting position before starting to cry into his hands.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. 

\---

Tommy found himself wandering the corridors of the mansion, wrapped in two of the thickest blankets he could find. Now, he was searching for a lantern to light his path. He had been stumbling over his own feet and the blankets trailing behind him, tears still streaming down his face. He knocked into one of the walls, nearly ramming into one of the paintings that lined it. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He was completely exhausted and wanted to collapse on the floor where he stood. 

“Hello?” A voice called from the other side of the hallway. His eyes shot open. Dream. It was Dream. It sounded so much like Dream. Same accent, maybe a bit deeper, but it had to be him. Tommy jumped back, scrambling to get away, searching the darkness to find where he was hiding. Finally, a light was lit that illuminated where the voice came from.

But it wasn’t Dream.

It was a boy his age wearing a well-made suit, half of his face and hair black, the other white. Purple particles danced around him, seemingly attracted to him like he was a magnet.

“Ranboo,” Tommy said. He cleared his throat, straightening the blankets around him.

“Yeah,” Ranboo’s voice sounded shaky and tired, “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

Ranboo started to walk closer to him. His steps were quiet, far too quiet for Tommy’s comfort. 

“You’re wandering the halls of our house at 1:00 AM, covered in our blankets,” Ranboo explained like it was obvious. Tommy gave a dumbfounded look. He paused, waiting for Ranboo to continue. When he didn’t, he blankly stared at him.

“And?”

Ranboo frowned. “I… nevermind.”

Tommy wiped his face with his sleeve, hoping that he looked presentable. He had to act natural, as he didn’t need Ranboo telling Tubbo that he was acting odd or something like that. His feathers fluffed up at the thought, but they were hidden well under his blanket. Tubbo had been making sure that Tommy was taking care of his wings ever since he preened them on the roof a few days ago, so they’ve been more expressive than they had been in a while, clearly communicating his emotions if you knew how to read them. 

Tommy gave a dramatic smirk, projecting all the cockiness and confidence he could, then looked the person in front of him up and down. “What are you doing up, boob boy?”

“That sounds so wrong,” Ranboo groaned.

“You sound so wrong.” Tommy shot back. He knew that he sounded like a fledgling, bickering about nonsense. But no one was here to yell at him, so he didn’t really feel that nervous about it.

“It’s raining,” Ranboo sighed, looking outside through one of the large, tinted windows. Tommy followed his gaze. Indeed, it was raining. Not that heavily, but enough for it to be audible when they were both silent. Tommy didn’t know why he didn’t realize it until it was pointed out to him, “I can’t ever sleep when it's raining. I get too anxious.” He finished.

Tommy nodded. “I feel that.” After a moment, he realized he just agreed with him, so he shook his head and corrected himself. “I mean- that’s so fucking stupid.”

Ranboo laughed. His laugh wasn’t loud, but it filled up the otherwise quiet hall, overpowering the sound of the rain.

“Don’t laugh at me, you dickhead.”

That only seemed to make him laugh harder. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear.” He was smiling brightly, his tail flicking behind him. Tommy couldn’t help but smile with him. 

Tommy, after a beat of silence, continued to walk down the hallway. He heard faint steps following him.

“You know, I thought you were Phil,” Ranboo said, almost wistfully.

Tommy swallowed, eyes wide. “What?”

“I mistake you for Phil all the time. Blond hair, huge wings. Even without the wings when you’re covering them up. When I was walking down the hall, and I saw you in the dark, I thought you were him. But why would Phil be here?”

Tommy shuddered, shaking his head profusely. “I… don’t look like him. At all.”

“Oh, not at all,” Ranboo swiftly agreed. Tommy let out a sigh of relief. “It’s just when I was so far away, and it was still dark, you kinda resemble him.”

“Do you like Phil?” Tommy asked. Ranboo shrugged in response.

“I don’t see any reason not to.”

Tommy cringed. “You really are dense,” he complained.

He wished he had bit back his words after Ranboo went silent. They continued to walk down the hall, with neither of them saying anything. He probably should apologize, even though he didn’t feel sorry. It was probably a shitty thing to say, but most people he talked to would have bounced back off of a comment like that. He wasn’t used to the people he bantered with not bantering back. He opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by Ranboo himself. 

“Tommy, why do you hate me?” He asked. Tommy stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you act like it?”

“Because you’re a dense twat.”

“That’s-”

“Because you stole him.” He blurted out, recoiling as soon as the words left his mouth.

Ranboo paused for a few moments. He looked at Tommy. Tommy looked back, making sure to look at the air right next to his head rather than looking directly at his eyes. “What?” Ranboo finally said.

Tommy sighed. “Because… you stole him from me.” He said again. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away from his arm.

“Stole… him? You mean Tubbo?”

“Yeah, I mean Tubbo you fucking jerk,” Tommy grumbled. He could feel himself shrink under Ranboo's gaze, even though he was probably not looking at him.

“I didn’t-”

“Yes you did,” Tommy interrupted, “I don’t have a best friend because of you.” He started walking again, using the blankets to cover his head like a hood.

“I bet you he is still your best friend,” Ranboo said as he caught up with him. Tommy rolled his eyes. He felt angry, like fire was pouring through his veins. He needed something to fan the flames, something to burn.

“Don’t fucking coddle me.” His voice was rising, far louder than Ranboo’s. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Ranboo solemnly appologized. Tommy gave an angry sigh, stopping in his tracks.

“Stop!”

“Stop what?”

“I’m yelling at you, why don’t you fight back?” He turned to face Ranboo, trying to look more threatening even when Ranboo was far taller, “Yell at me. Hit me. Push me. Scream, be a jerk, be an arsehole.”

Ranboo shook his head rapidly. He started to fiddle with one of his sleeve cuffs. “No. I-I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” his voice was small. “Everyone else does.”

“Why would people do that?”

“I dunno. Because it’s easy? It’s satisfying, if only for a moment.”

“But that isn’t helpful.” Ranboo pointed out. He sat on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Tommy begrudgingly followed his lead, sitting on the opposite side of the corridor. 

“Things don’t always have to be helpful,” he argued back.

“Maybe they should be. I bet you Tubbo doesn’t yell at you when either you or him are mad.”

Tommy’s breath got caught in his throat. His wings escaped from under the blankets, wrapping around him. He felt his brain go foggy as he felt the rain on his skin even though he was still inside.

“He did. Once.”

In a flash, he was back on the obsidian wall that once surrounded New L’Manburg. The stone was jagged under his feet. The rain wasn’t that strong, but it was strong enough. He was staring down Tubbo, his horns gleaming, his suit perfect. Dream was behind Tubbo, and Tommy just knew that he was smirking underneath his stupid fucking mask. 

Tubbo’s hair was shorter and pushed back, out of the way of his eyes. He could tell that Tubbo had attempted to cover up his execution scars- either with makeup or with his outfit. He radiated both confidence and a sense of being lost. He looked like a completely separate person from what he looked like now, even though it was mere months ago.

Then he was back in the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Ranboo had crawled over to his side, letting Tommy lean against him. The blankets that were covering him were pushed off, and his wings fell limply around him. Ranboo put an arm around Tommy, and he put a wing around the two of them in return.

“It’s gonna be alright. I know it is.” Ranboo whispered.

“How?”

“Well, because we are safe right now. And Tubbo will never abandon you, especially since you’re here right now. He just… he needed some time to adjust. He was really sad when you… when you lost your last life. I’ve never seen him sadder. But he really does care about you.”

“I’m sorry, boob boy,” he mumbled. He pushed a hand through his unruly hair. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But I still don’t like you.” He quickly added. The hallway was illuminated by lightning for a brief moment.

Ranboo nodded. “That sounds good.”

“But maybe you’re alright.”

“I hope I am.” Tommy opened his mouth but closed it again. It was an odd response on Ranboo’s part, a comment that stuck out in their conversation. What did that even mean? How could you not know-

A loud boom of thunder filled the hallway. Ranboo’s eyes widened, and he went stiff. Tommy was about to make fun of him, but then he realized- Tubbo.

The two of them both jumped up, almost in sync. Tommy stumbled over the blankets, but Ranboo pulled him to his feet and balanced him. They sprinted down the hall, Tommy’s footsteps heavy and loud, Ranboo’s quiet and fast. At a point, Ranboo had to lead the way since Tommy still couldn’t navigate around the mansion. Another flash of lightning, another rumble of thunder.

With every step, he felt like he was in a different location. He was in the forest outside of Manburg, the on the obsidian wall, then on the pillar in exile, then looking down to see New L’Manburg destroyed.

They finally got to Tubbo’s room. Ranboo knocked on the door before gently opened it.

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo was sitting on the floor near his bed. He had his head in his hands, and he was visibly shaking. Tommy pushed past Ranboo and walked into the room, sitting next to Tubbo.

“I didn’t… I thought….” Tubbo’s voice was distant and far away.

Ranboo sat on the other side of him and started to rub circles on his back, humming a soft tone.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Sitting on the floor, all together, nothing breaking the silence besides the steady patter of the rain against the windows. Tubbo dropped his hands, putting his head back. He rubbed his temples before looking at the people next to him.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hey, bigman.” Tommy said as gently as he could, “How are you doing?”

Tubbo nodded. “I got kinda spooked by the thunder. I thought I was back….” He didn’t need to finish the thought. The end of the sentence hung thickly in the air.

“Yeah.”

“But you’re here now,” Ranboo said, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Yep. You’re stuck with us, and you can’t do anything about it.” Tommy added on, laughing. Tubbo laughed with him, his smile bright but tired.

“I take it that you guys couldn’t sleep either.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like the rain is good for any of us.” Ranboo said lightly. They all softly giggled. 

Tubbo stood up, dragging the two others from the ground with him. 

“Let's go downstairs, then. We’ll just hang out till we have to actually get up and do shit,” he announced to the two of them. “I can make hot cocoa, too.”

Ranboo’s ears perked up, and the particles around him thickened. “It’s been so long since I’ve had your hot cocoa.”

“You’ve really missed it that much?” Tubbo laughed. Ranboo flustered, looking down at the floor.

“Y-yeah.”

Tommy opened the door, rolling his eyes at the two of them. “Hurry up, you two are so slow.” 

Ranboo laughed, sticking his tongue out at Tubbo. “Yeah, hurry up, Tubbo.” Ranboo ran ahead of him, and Tubbo yelped in protest.

\---

Ranboo and Tommy were sat close together on the couch, covered in blankets and pillows, quietly talking when Tubbo walked into the living room. The fireplace was bright and alive, crackling with flames dancing. Tubbo handed a mug full of hot cocoa to each of them, then nestled in between them.

Tommy draped a wing over the two next to him, relishing in the warmth of the room. They all were sipping their hot cocoa, occasionally talking about whatever. They didn’t talk constantly, but they didn’t need to be. 

Tommy didn’t really like Ranboo, but he’d try. He’d try for Tubbo if no one else.

Because right now, they need each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter barely had any avian / wing based content, but it's kinda needed to build up the foundation for the next few chapters
> 
> (thanks for the incredible amount of support on the last chapter btw)


End file.
